Nothing Lasts Forever
by Silver Bee
Summary: No one's invincible - not even a Tracy - and the oldest member of the family is the most vulnerable of them all.
1. Chapter 1

**It's been a while, but I've realised that if I wait until I think I've got enough time to write, then I'm never going to do it. Hoping for regular updates, but real life has a habit of getting in the way.**

On a cold November afternoon, two figures walked slowly through the Kansas graveyard, coming to a halt at a marble headstone which bore the simple inscription:

 _Sarah Ann Tracy_

 _Born and died September 17th 2004_

 _Also Grant Tracy_

 _1972 - 2026_

 _Beloved husband and father_

The old woman sighed, gently running her hand across the top of the gravestone. The young man beside her placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'll be over there, Grandma." He moved away to give her some time alone.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she replied absently, her thoughts skipping back through the years to a time long before her grandson's birth, when she'd been young and wildly in love with her strong, handsome husband.

Virgil made his way slowly to a nearby bench. He sat down with a sigh, wearily stretching his arms above his head before wincing at the pain this caused. _Damn ribs_ , he thought. _Another week of sitting around feeling useless. John's lucky he only sprained his ankle; that hasn't stopped him going back up to Five._

He stared moodily into the distance, remembering that ill-fated day in Japan when he and John, guiding trapped earthquake victims to safety, had had the bad luck to come across a concussed and delirious sumo-wrestler who hadn't taken too kindly to their efforts to remove him from the collapsed restaurant. As if the resulting injuries hadn't been bad enough, Gordon's video footage of the frankly one-sided fight had caused great hilarity amongst his brothers. Scott had tried to be tactful, though the big grin on his face every time he looked at them gave him away, but Gordon and Alan had no such consideration for their brothers. The humiliation was worse than the pain as they had to endure every Sumo and sushi joke imaginable. After two weeks the joke still hadn't worn thin – not that Virgil and John had found it funny in the first place. Even their father, once his concern at their injuries had been allayed, had been found watching the footage and trying not to laugh. Tempers had frayed as the two most patient Tracy boys had finally had enough. There had been some sharp words and even the threat of violence. John had begged for a return to Thunderbird Five whilst Virgil had jumped at the chance to get away from the island when his grandmother had asked him to fly her back to Kansas to visit her husband's grave on what would have been their wedding anniversary.

He watched as she placed the bunch of roses in the holder at the foot of the grave. She'd lost a lot of her old vitality over the last year or so, something he and the rest of his family were doing their best to ignore, but there was no getting away from the fact that she looked particularly frail today. One day, he thought, there would be another name on the headstone and he'd be placing roses for three. It was a sobering thought and it banished the gloomy memories of Japan. He got up and walked back towards his grandmother, consoling himself with the thought that in a couple of hours he'd be enjoying a night out in town with his best friend from school whilst Grandma spent some time with an old friend of her own.

* * *

The knock on his office door was an unwelcome disturbance. Jeff Tracy, grateful to finally get some peace now that Virgil and John were off the island, had been lost in a perusal of his company accounts, his nose buried in a pile of spreadsheets an inch thick. Although an innovator in all aspects of technology, Jeff was something of a traditionalist when it came to paperwork, not really able to engage with it unless it actually was on paper and he had a pen in his hand.

He knew it was Kyrano - the soft tap was distinctive. His sons rapped loudly and confidently on the door, or, in the case of Alan or Gordon, just barged in, Brains' knock was a staccato double tap which echoed the man's stammer and his mother would always call his name when she knocked. Wondering why the man would be disturbing him when he'd known Jeff was busy - it was too late for coffee and Jeff was well supplied with scotch as always - he fought to keep an edge of irritation out of his voice as he called Kyrano in.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Mr Tracy," Kyrano told him, bowing his head apologetically. "But I have Mrs Elliott on the line. She says it's urgent."

"Mrs- Oh, Barbara." Jeff pushed his paperwork away, fear washing over him. "Has something happened to Mother?" Surely not, he thought. Virgil would have been in touch via his wrist-com. Unless there was bad news about his son...

"She said Mrs Tracy and Mr Virgil are well, Sir," Kyrano said, knowing instinctively what thoughts were running through the other man's head. "But she insists on speaking to you right away."

"You'd better put her through, then."

Kyrano's assurances hadn't done anything to ease Jeff's misgivings and he snatched up the phone as soon as the green light appeared.

"Barbara? What's wrong? I thought Mom was visiting you tonight. Is she alright?"

"She's fine. She's sleeping now - it's nearly midnight here. I thought long and hard about bothering you, Jeff, and I know I could talk to Virgil when he picks her up tomorrow, but I wouldn't have been able to sleep if I hadn't done something right away. She's having dinner with the Rosenbergs tomorrow and you know how Veronica likes to gossip. Ruth might-"

"What's happened?" Jeff wouldn't usually interrupt so rudely, but something was obviously very, very wrong - his godmother wasn't usually one to ramble, or to sound so unsure of herself. Unaware that he was mirroring Virgil's thoughts of a few hours earlier, he allowed himself to admit that for some time now he'd been worried about his mother. He'd been doing his best to ignore his fears, but now it looked as though he might be forced to face them.

"She was fine at first. Completely normal. But we got to talking about baking and how everyone loved her desserts and all of a sudden she just started to cry."

"Ah, the apple pie." Jeff cast his mind back to John's first dinner following a six week stint up on Thunderbird Five. As was traditional, his mother had made one of her famous apple pies in order to welcome her grandson home. John had been full of anticipation - he'd always asserted that the thing he missed most about Earth was his grandmother's cooking - but after taking one bite he'd screwed his face up in disgust. Grandma had used salt instead of sugar and the pie was inedible. She'd been beside herself and although all her grandsons had done their best to get her to laugh it off and John had declared himself more than happy with a bowl of Kyrano's strawberries, she'd refused to be consoled.

"She's become a lot more forgetful lately," Barbara said. "She rang me three times last month to thank me for her birthday present, but for the first time in nearly seventy years she didn't send me anything on mine. I don't think she's even realised she's missed it."

Minor things, really, Jeff thought, but he couldn't stop other unwelcome examples from flooding into his mind. The number of times his mother had called Scott 'Jeff', recently. The time when, whilst taking a walk down to the beach, she'd spotted a boat pulled up on the shore and sent out an emergency alert, fearing that intruders were loose on the island. She'd been mortified when Gordon had taken one look at the boat and pointed out that it belonged to him, although in fairness, he usually kept it in the boathouse on the other side of the island. Worst of all, a few weeks earlier she'd been reading a magazine and had pointed out to Alan a necklace that she'd insisted would make a perfect Christmas present for Tin-Tin. The girl had been dead for nearly two years...

"Jeff?"

Jeff realised that he'd been lost in his thoughts for a good couple of minutes.

"Sorry. I was miles away."

"Her grandfather had Alzheimer's, you know."

"I know." Jeff didn't want to pursue that idea, but thankfully, it seemed that Barbara didn't either.

"There's something else," she said, and the way her voice became even more hesitant worried Jeff. "It's the reason I called you now instead of waiting till the morning. I think... I mean, you need to..."

"Barbara?" Jeff was really worried now.

There was a nervous laugh before Barbara continued. "Jeff, it was after she told me about the apple pie and how upset she was that she'd ruined John's dinner. But then she said - quite seriously and I think without even realising she'd said it - that he missed out on so much when he was stuck up on Thunderbird Five and he deserved a treat when he came home."

Jeff caught his breath. Delusional, he thought. That was the way to go. Laugh it off, even if it did seem to add weight to the Alzheimer's theory. But before he could respond, Barbara was speaking again.

"I'd have put it down to her mind not being what it was, except that she's been forgetting things, not making things up. And the more I thought about it, well, I've always thought there was something not quite right about you and the boys - living the way you do on that isolated island. And I know you, Jefferson. Even as a little boy you'd go out of your way to help people - whether they wanted it or not. Cats stuck up trees, birds with damaged wings, tramps in need of a bath and a meal... you were always turning up with some waif or stray for your mother to look after.

"Thinking about it tonight, I realised Ruth's always stressed when International Rescue are in action, and whenever there's news of an injury to a pilot, one of your boys seems to be in the wars," Barbara continued. "Like Virgil now. Yes, if anyone was going to set out to save the world, it would be you. And that technology! Of course you're the one behind it all."

"I..." Jeff couldn't bring himself to lie to someone he'd known all his life.

"You can trust me, Jeff, you know that. I'll do anything I can to help Ruth, and that includes keeping her secrets. But you need to do something. Find her a doctor. Sooner rather than later. Because if she can let it slip to me, she could do it to someone else."

Jeff sighed. "I guess you're right. Thank you, Barbara."

"Will you tell Virgil or shall I?"

"I'll speak to him in the morning. Let him have some fun tonight. As you say, he's had a hard time of it lately. But perhaps he should bring Mom home tomorrow, just to be safe."

"I think it's for the best. I'm sorry about this, Jeff. Sorry about Ruth and sorry for adding to your worries."

"You did the right thing. Thank you."

"I'm proud of you, Jeff," his godmother told him, before ending the call.

Jeff bundled up his spreadsheets and shoved them into a drawer. Pouring himself a stiff drink, he thought hard for a while before calling John up on Five. He knew his son would still be awake - he always found it hard to settle for the first few days of a rotation in space.

"Hi Dad. Everything okay?"

"Not really." Jeff told him about Barbara's call.

John sighed. "I think we've all been worried about her lately. Maybe we should have faced facts before this."

"Maybe. Well, there's no getting away from it now. I don't suppose she's mentioned IR in any telephone conversations, has she? I know she's in touch with a few other old friends."

"We ignore any transmissions from the island, remember? We agreed that we needed to know any calls we make stay private. Anyway, it's not just phone calls. She goes shopping on the mainland every week and you know how Grandma likes to talk. But if she has said something, nothing's come of it - or else people think she's just some crazy old woman..."

"Okay, John. Listen, I hate to say it, but can you monitor your grandmother's calls from now on?"

John wasn't at all comfortable with the idea - nor did he relish having to listen in on what was likely to be a series of lengthy conversations about knitting and the like - but he appreciated the necessity. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Barbara's right about her needing to see a doctor," Jeff said. "But I've got no idea who to call. She's got to have the very best."

"Brains?" John asked. "He'll know of someone."

"Brains," Jeff agreed. After all, the genius knew far more about medical matters and the practitioners at the top of their game than he did.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for the response to the first chapter - it's really appreciated. Sueemoody, I can't reply personally, but thank you for the review and I hope you enjoy this one. (If 'enjoy' is the right word...)_

Chapter Two

It was late, but Jeff knew he'd find Brains awake and hard at work in his lab. Sure enough, the man was sitting at a workbench, staring fixedly at the contents of some beaker which, as Jeff watched, turned from lilac to dark purple before suddenly bubbling and fizzing, spilling over the top of the glass container and immediately eating into the metal plate he'd placed underneath to protect the wooden surface.

Hurrying over to help clear up the mess, Jeff couldn't help but smile. "I hope that's not some new formula for the edible transmitters."

"N-no, Mr T-Tracy." Brains looked rather offended. "I -it's for use in the new c-cutting apparatus."

"Well, in that case, good work," Jeff told him.

"I-it's not quite r-ready," Brains admitted. "D-did you c-come for a d-demonstration?"

"No." Jeff sat down on a stool beside Brains. "I need to talk to you."

Brains listened patiently, nodding as Jeff outlined his concerns. "Y-you c-could be right," he finally said. "I-I've noticed..." He trailed off, leading Jeff to prompt him.

"What, Brains?"

"It's n-nothing." The genius, never one for direct eye-contact, was now fixated on a pot plant on the other side of the room - something Grandma had placed there to make the Spartan space that little bit more homely.

"Brains? Tell me, please. Don't be embarrassed. Whatever it is she's said, we need to know. If we can put a full picture together it might help."

Brains was looking at the workbench now. "I-it's nothing she's s-said."

"Something she's done, then?" Jeff looked at his engineer closely, then let out a breath. "Or not done... Brains, have you lost weight?"

Brains shrugged. "I-I never w-weigh myself, Mr T-Tracy. It's p-proven that-"

"Brains, stop trying to change the subject. You haven't been eating, have you? Which, given how rarely you join us for meals, means my mother hasn't been bringing you your usual tray."

Brains nodded awkwardly.

"Why didn't you say something?" Jeff asked in exasperation. "Or at least come up to the kitchen and fix something yourself if you didn't want to sit with the family?"

"I-I forget about eating when I-I'm working," Brains admitted. "That's why Mrs T-Tracy would b-bring me a m-meal. I d-didn't really notice when she d-didn't."

Or more likely you did but you were too shy to bring it up, Jeff thought. Even after all these years the young man found it hard to accept that the Tracys really did see him as part of the family. Jeff had accomplished all but one of his ambitions in life - and this last one was likely to be the toughest of all to achieve - but one day, he swore, Brains would call him 'Jeff'!

Reassuring the man that Grandma still thought a great deal of him, Jeff asked him to find out as much as he could about what might be the matter with her and what treatment was available. Then he left the man to his experiments, happy in the knowledge that thanks to Kyrano he'd at least eaten well these past few days. When his mother returned, he'd ask Kyrano to continue to keep an eye on things. The last thing he needed was for Brains to pass out from lack of food.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Alan, Gordon and Scott were surprised to hear that Virgil and Grandma were on their way home.

"Thought they were staying the week," Gordon said through a mouthful of bacon.

"Shame those inflatable sumo costumes haven't arrived yet," Alan pouted. " We wanted to wear them to meet Virg off the plane. Still, maybe we could-"

"Boys, can you be serious for a minute?"

"Aw, Dad, come on. It's just a bit of fun."

"Didn't you have enough fun when Dad and I had to pull Virg off you, Alan?" Scott asked.

Alan winced at the memory. "You'd think Virg could take a joke. But that costume will give me plenty of protection. He'll just bounce off this time."

"Not if I'm standing there with a big pin," Scott said grimly, naturally assuming the role of protector where Virgil was concerned.

Jeff surveyed his boys wearily as the argument continued. The teasing had to stop, but he hated the fact that his news was going to put such an unpleasant end to the boys' fun.

"Grandma's not well."

The rush of anxiety was hardly unexpected and Jeff had to hold up a hand to calm his boys as they demanded to know what was wrong.

"That is, she's fine physically," he began, then found that he didn't need to go any further. Scott sank back against his chair whilst Alan put down the forkful of food he was in the process of raising to his mouth. Only Gordon seemed somewhat confused.

"What's she done?" Scott asked.

"Told Barbara about International Rescue."

"Oh."

The implications were clear. But whilst Scott and Alan tentatively agreed that they'd half-suspected something like this might happen, Gordon didn't seem to feel there was anything to be concerned about.

"What's the problem? Aunty Barbara's known her since forever. Of course Grandma's going to be more relaxed around her. So what if she let something slip about Five? It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with her."

"But, it's not just that, is it?" Jeff forced himself to go through all the things Grandma had done over the last six months or so. Alan and Scott added new examples that he hadn't known about, and even Kyrano, having arrived at that point to collect the dishes, chipped in with a few incidents he'd been privy to. Apparently he'd had to step in on several occasions to save dinner, Grandma having either forgotten to prepare anything, or leaving things to boil dry or burn.

But Gordon still didn't seem convinced. " Old people do forget things," he protested. " It doesn't mean there's anything wrong, not in that way. We're obviously making her do too much. If she gets a bit more rest she'll be fine."

Jeff smiled sadly at his boy. Grandma was pretty much the only mother Gordon had ever known. Just two when Lucy had died, his memories of her were sketchy at best, though he was fully aware of how his older brothers, not to mention his father, had been affected. No wonder he found this so hard to accept.

"Gordon..." He tried again, but the redhead shoved his chair back and got up.

"She's fine!" he insisted, and left the room.

Scott made to go after him, but Jeff's hand on his arm stopped him. "Leave him," he said. "He'll come round. To be honest, he's the least of my problems right now."

"What are you going to say to her?" Alan asked. "She's never been one to admit there's anything wrong. Look at all the trouble we had getting her to have that new hip."

For a moment a look of despair crossed Jeff's face, shocking his remaining sons who were used to him appearing totally unemotional even in the most desperate of circumstances. But he pulled himself together and shook his head.

"I don't know, Alan. I really don't know."

* * *

Virgil engaged the autopilot, double-checked with John that nothing was within a hundred miles of his plane, then slid out of his seat and headed into the cabin for some coffee. Grandma was there, fast asleep. It was unusual for her not to be seated in the cockpit with whoever was piloting, enjoying the opportunity of an uninterrupted chat, but she'd seemed tired ever since he'd collected her from Barbara's house earlier that morning, citing an International Rescue matter as the reason for their early return.

He hadn't exactly been shocked when he'd received the news from his father. After all, it had only been a day ago that he'd watched her at her husband and daughter's graveside and accepted that it was only a matter of time before he lost her. This was worse, though, he thought, imagining a future where Grandma was there in body but not in mind. But as hard as it would be for him and his family, it would be a thousand times harder for her. He couldn't bear to think about it.

Barbara had taken the opportunity for a quick conversation whilst Grandma busied herself collecting the last of her things. Virgil had braced himself for a barrage of International Rescue-related questions, but to her credit, Barbara only mentioned the organisation in passing as she assured him she'd never breathe a word. No, her only concern was for her friend and she promised to support her any way she could. She didn't say anything, but Virgil knew from the way she hugged Grandma extra-tight at their parting, that she was wondering if they'd ever get the chance to meet up again.

He poured his coffee then took a moment to look at his grandmother as she slept. He was an artist, used to seeing the details that others might miss, yet up till now he'd done a good job of ignoring the fact that Grandma had aged rapidly over the last year or so. Like Barbara, he wondered if this might be her last visit to Kansas, and for the first time since leaving Tracy Island, he thought appreciatively of Gordon and Alan. If it hadn't been for them, he wouldn't have been free to bring her over. Then again, if she hadn't let the family secret slip to Barbara, maybe they could have continued to ignore what was now so blatantly obvious. But for how long, and with what consequences? No, it was surely better to face up to the fact and try to find some way of helping her before it was too late.

If it wasn't already. Medicine had advanced phenomenally since Grandma was a girl, but there were still some things that it couldn't cure. Like Alzheimer's.

Grandma stirred and opened her eyes. "Hello, darling," she smiled. "Is that a coffee?"

"Yes." Virgil smiled back. "Want one?"

Grandma refused the offer, but she did join her grandson in the cockpit where she subjected him to her usual lecture on the dangers of drinking too much coffee. Virgil had heard it all before and normally he'd just have tuned the words out, but today he gave Grandma his full attention, knowing how much he was going to miss her looking out for him.

The other thing he could do was give Grandma just a little longer before she had to listen to her family's concerns. Usually he'd engage the thrusters Brains had added to the small plane, making the long journey in super-quick time, but this time he wanted to drag it out as long as possible. Even so, time moved inexorably onwards, and as the sun set, he approached the landing strip on Tracy Island where the whole family were gathered to greet them.

They didn't mention their concerns that evening, simply enjoying a celebratory meal to welcome the travellers home. John was present via the vid-link to Thunderbird Five, and Brains came up from his lab - everyone flinching when Grandma observed how thin he was looking, giving Kyrano, who had also been persuaded to join them, quite the telling-off for not taking care of him whilst she'd been away. Afterwards, whilst Gordon took Grandma for a stroll down to the beach, the others tried to work out what their next move should be.

Naturally, it fell to Jeff to talk to his mother, though he asked Virgil - the woman's favourite grandson, though of course she'd never admit it - to be present. The middle brother wasn't keen on the idea, but he couldn't refuse. But even with the decision made, the pair kept putting it off, hating the thought of upsetting the woman. She was so happy to be back home, caring for her family, oblivious to all their concerns. It couldn't last, though, and it was only a few days later when Grandma checked the kitchen cupboards and announced it was time for a supply run, so if someone would drop her over to the mainland she'd do the shopping.

Scott said he'd go with her. Grandma told him it was sweet of him to offer, but he'd always hated shopping and she wouldn't want to put him through such an ordeal.

Gordon claimed he needed to visit the dentist and suggested he do the shopping whilst he was there. Grandma laughed, telling him that he'd get it all wrong and they'd be living on pizza and fries for the next week. Or was that his plan? No, she said, the family would be sticking to their usual healthy diet.

Kyrano suggested having everything delivered. Grandma refused outright and expressed her surprise - the man was usually as insistent on choosing the freshest produce as she was.

Virgil, then Alan, offered to escort her, but although they had never expressed the same disdain for shopping as their eldest brother - not openly, at least - Grandma gave them the same response. She liked shopping. Not only did it give her the chance to get off the island for a while, but she enjoyed chatting to the people she met, some of whom had become friends over the years. If the boys were with her she wouldn't feel able to stop for a coffee with anyone else - and she'd hate to miss the chance to boast about her wonderful grandsons! And why exactly did her boys look so horrified when she said that? Really, the way they were hovering over her these days - Gordon had at least got his way when he insisted they all do more to lessen her workload - it was as though they thought she wasn't up to the job of looking after them anymore. How ridiculous!

And so it went on. It was only when Jeff himself put his foot down and insisted that he'd take her - something that had never, ever, happened before - that Grandma really grew suspicious. He'd made the announcement at breakfast and she'd mulled it over for a while as she sat on the terrace enjoying the sun and the sound of Virgil's latest piano composition. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that something was going on and she determined to have it out with her son. But when she went into his study - forgetting for once to knock and announce herself - she found it empty. She'd have left immediately, except, sitting there on the desk was a brochure for some kind of medical treatment. Terrified at the prospect of Jeff being sick, she picked it up for a closer look.

Only to find it clearly wasn't meant for her son, after all.

The fallout was explosive, even if Jeff couldn't help but feel half-relieved that he hadn't had to broach the subject after all. At first his mother was furious, insisting she was still in complete control of her faculties. Even after he'd outlined all the concerns he'd had over the last few months, she still refused to believe him. She was fine! Old and tired, yes - dear Gordon was clearly the only boy who truly understood her - but absolutely fine. How Jeff could even begin to suggest...

Barbara was called in to back up Jeff's argument, but far from helping, her call just made matters worse. Grandma accused her of being jealous, of regretting her own failed marriages and lack of communication with her only grandson. She finally slammed the phone down after telling her friend that she wanted nothing more to do with her. Anything but face the revelation that she'd accidentally given away the Tracy secret.

She refused to see a doctor and Brains was treated with suspicion whenever he so much as came near her. Even the politest attempt at conversation was viewed as a test of her mental ability. She stopped letting the boys do her chores, insisting she could cope. Kyrano was given short shrift if he dared show his face in the kitchen when she was cooking dinner. Usually the most calm and self-controlled of women, she now flew into a rage over the smallest thing.

For a while, her only ally was Gordon, though even he, too, could now see the change in her. She begged him to take her over to the mainland, not only bored but also, though she hardly dared admit it to herself, scared at the prospect of being confined on Tracy Island to the end of her days. Although he found it hard to refuse her, he was too scared of the consequences to give in. Finally, in tears, she shut herself in her room, refusing to come out until they set her free. She demanded to see Lucy, insisting that the woman would never accept this harsh treatment of her mother-in-law. Jeff told her Lucy wasn't there, Grandma told him she'd always thought the woman would eventually crack under the strain of living with a workaholic and it was no wonder she'd left him. Jeff walked out at this point, leaving Scott and Virgil to remind her that their mother had been dead for over twenty years. She refused to believe them, wandering the house, calling for Lucy. When Kyrano - no one else could bear to do it - showed her the reports of the avalanche, the focus of course being on the tragedy which had struck one of the greatest heroes of the age, she cried for hours, then sought out Jeff, admitting in a moment of absolute clarity that she really did have a problem.

They called in a doctor, a woman at the top of her profession with a score of rich and famous clients and an impeccable reputation for discretion. Sure enough, the diagnosis was Alzheimer's, with little hope of any recovery. Drugs might halt the progress of the cruel disease for a while, but ultimately, Grandma would be lost - to the family and to herself. She'd been devastated, of course. They all had - after all, suspecting was better than knowing for sure and it was hard to lose the little hope they'd had.

And so for the next six months or so, despite trying every possible treatment, they watched Grandma deteriorate.

Eventually, Jeff knew it was time to make a decision. Should he send his mother home to Kansas to end her days? Or should he keep her here on Tracy Island? Until recently he'd have gone for the latter, but a few days ago everyone had been thrown into complete panic when Grandma hadn't appeared at breakfast and they'd found her bed hadn't been slept in. A search of the island had brought no result and finally they'd dispatched Gordon and Virgil to their respective 'birds, realising, to their despair, that an air and sea search might be the only way they'd find the missing woman.

When Virgil announced that he'd found Grandma asleep in his pilot's chair, relief came first, but was closely followed by anxiety. Had she done anything; touched anything she shouldn't have? Virgil was forced to run a full diagnostic, which eventually came up clear but meant he was delayed in launching on a rescue mission, though thankfully in this case time wasn't of the essence.

Jeff knew something had to be done, and fast. The island was too dangerous for his mother now. Even if they locked down every 'bird and the silos which housed them, there was still the sea and the pool to worry about, not to mention the sheer cliffs. Plus, eventually she was going to need more personal care and even if she'd completely lost her faculties by then, he knew she'd hate the thought of her family doing that for her. The difficulty of finding and vetting a stranger, trusting them with the secret of International Rescue, was almost a secondary consideration. He'd do whatever was best for his mother, not what was most convenient for him. But, unusually for such a decisive man, he just didn't know what to do for the best.

It was whilst he was mulling over these concerns that he received a call from Grandma's doctor. He hadn't had the chance to discuss the matter with her as she'd been in Switzerland for the past week at a conference. He'd assumed she was checking in with him in response to the email he'd sent after Grandma had gone walkabout, but it seemed she had other news for him - a breakthrough in treatment that could benefit Grandma!

Jeff listened as she outlined the findings of an American doctor based just outside Denver.

"It's revolutionary," Dr Samuels told him. "The man's definitely on to something, Mr Tracy. His preliminary results are beyond anything we've ever seen. There are no guarantees, of course, but I really think he might be able to help Mrs Tracy."

Jeff felt a burst of hope. "Would he take her on?"

"I believe so. He's looking for funding to extend his research, which of course would give you a big advantage in getting your mother onto the next trial. I have his details if you'd like to get in touch."

Jeff did exactly that, and ten days later, he and Brains were on their way to Colorado to meet with Dr Hart.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks to everyone who responded to the last chapter. Whirlgirl, I really do appreciate your comments - thank you._

Chapter Three

Denver was a familiar city to Jeff, who had visited it numerous times when Virgil was at college there, but the area where the Hart Institute was situated was new to him.

"We're h-here," Brains said, as they finally reached their destination, some ten miles out of the city. Jeff surveyed the white two storey building and the immaculate lawns in front. The place itself looked ordinary enough, but the bars on the windows gave him some misgivings, as did the extra-high fence and the solid set of gates ahead of him, a security guard already emerging out of his cabin to check Jeff's credentials. It was more like a prison than a hospital. Was this really the best place for his mother? Then again, he thought, given the condition of the patients, security was probably a real concern. If they wandered off round here, they could be lost in the mountains forever, or at least long enough to die of exposure. If his mother stayed on Tracy Island he'd probably have to do something similar, make some kind of enclosure to keep her safe...

Aware that Brains was watching him, apparently uncertain whether or not to point out that they'd been stationary for a good few minutes and the security guard was now looking at them somewhat suspiciously, Jeff gave himself a mental shake and reminded himself that he was doing this to _help_ his mother.

A quick check of identities and they were on their way through the gates.

"I-it looks o-okay," Brains said, gazing around. Orderlies kept watch as a group of elderly people sat on benches or wandered around the lawns. To the side of the building, several young men, again under supervision, played baseball. The clinic was extending its research into brain injuries and these were presumably some of those patients.

They were greeted by a tall, sandy-haired man in his late thirties who looked more like a businessman than a doctor, thanks to his sharp pinstripe suit and pink tie, a matching handkerchief tucked into the top pocket of his jacket.

"Dr Irwin Hart," he announced, moving forward to shake Jeff's hand. "It's an honour, Mr Tracy. I've been an admirer of yours for many years. And this is your medical advisor, Dr Hackenbacker?"

He didn't usually use the title 'Dr', despite being entitled to it, and Brains blushed as he nodded, shaking the man's hand in turn.

"We've read the notes your mother's doctor sent us," Dr Hart told them.

"We?" Jeff asked.

"Myself and my associate, Dr Ulrich. He'll be in charge of your mother's case if you choose to send her here. Which we very much hope you do."

Jeff nodded his approval. He and Brains had done extensive research into the Hart Institute, discovering that although Dr Hart was the owner and a talented practitioner in his own right, the man who had given the presentation that had so impressed his mother's doctor, it was this Dr Ulrich who seemed to be the driving force behind the new treatment. It was a relief to know that his mother would be getting the best help possible. Jeff had worried that Dr Hart might have insisted on taking on her case himself, partly for the prestige of treating the mother of the great Jeff Tracy, but also with an eye on the possibility of a massive investment in his facility should the billionaire be impressed with its results.

"Henry will join us later," Dr Hart continued. "He's with a patient at the moment. Why don't I give you a tour of the place, then we can discuss how we can help your mother."

The Hart Institute was certainly impressive. They were taken around the living accommodation, the communal areas, the grounds and of course, the treatment rooms. Jeff eyed the equipment with its multitude of electrodes and monitors a little suspiciously, hating the thought of subjecting his mother to any of this, but Brains, at least, seemed satisfied with what he saw.

They ate lunch - the food wasn't quite up to Kyrano's standards, though it was better than anything Grandma prepared these days - in a private dining room with a few of the patients, who Dr Hart described as some of the clinic's greatest successes. Certainly they seemed sharp enough, singing the praises of the facility, though Jeff suspected they'd been carefully selected and drilled in what to say in order to give the right impression.

Canny businessman that he was, Dr Hart obviously knew his visitors would suspect this manipulation, so he left Brains and Jeff alone to have coffee and talk about what they'd seen so far. "Feel free to go into the main dining hall and talk to any of the patients," he told them, rising from his seat after he'd finished his meal. "Just remember that they're at varying stages in their treatment. I'll see you in my office in half an hour. Someone will bring you over."

Sure enough, some of the other patients were in a far worse state than the ones they'd just met. A few of the women reminded Jeff of his mother, that lost and vacant look ever-present in their eyes. One, when he bent down to talk to her, grasped his hand and addressed him as "Stevie", tears rolling down her face as she asked him why he'd taken so long to come and visit.

A nurse came hurrying across, helping Jeff to detach himself. After settling the woman, she came over to him. "Sorry about that," she said. "Mrs Hatcher hasn't been here long. Her son came down last weekend, but of course, she's forgotten."

"Will she improve?" Jeff asked.

"Hard to say. She's certainly one of the most severe cases we've taken on, but given the results we've had with some of the others... She's got a good chance, that's for sure. Probably not of a full recovery, but she'll be a lot better by the time she leaves here. She's one of our pro bono cases, you know. Dr Ulrich insists that fifty percent of his cases are drawn from those who could benefit most but can't afford the fees."

Jeff found himself approving more and more of Dr Ulrich. A man after his own heart, it seemed. Not that he thought badly of Dr Hart - after all, a place like this didn't pay for itself. But it felt good to know that the extortionate price he'd been quoted for his mother's treatment wouldn't just be for her benefit. And if it worked, well, he'd definitely be interested in investing - under the same conditions that Dr Ulrich had imposed, of course.

"I-I think this is a g-good place," Brains said softly.

"Yes." Jeff's reply had a certain reluctance, though. Could he really let his mother come here? Oh, the treatment was promising, alright - the only glimmer of hope he had if he was honest - but to take her away from all that was familiar, even if she was less and less aware of her surroundings these days... How could he do it?

There was, of course, the other issue... International Rescue. Would Grandma inadvertently say something to give them away? And would anyone believe her if she did? Right now, they'd probably put any comments down to her condition. But if she started to improve and still said the same thing... It was definitely a risk. Did he have the right to deprive Grandma of the chance for a cure? Or should he be more concerned about the lives that might be lost if the organisation's identity was revealed? He'd talked the matter through with his sons time and time again and each time they'd come to the same conclusion: they had to try. Gordon had wondered whether Grandma could stay on Tracy Island and just come over for treatment - Brains could surely handle anything that needed to be done in the interim. Or perhaps, as Virgil had suggested, Jeff could get one of his agents to stay with her and monitor her that way. It would certainly make matters easier. Of course, there was the possibility that all this worry was for nothing, that she wouldn't be deemed suitable for treatment after all. So much depended on his upcoming meeting with Dr Ulrich.

When a young man came into the room, stopping to talk to the nurse before heading across to them, Jeff knew from the long scar which ran from his eyebrow right over the top of his head, that this was one of the patients who had suffered brain damage after a head injury.

"Hello, Sir," he said, a little slowly, but clearly enough. "I'm Will. Dr Hart asked me to take you to his office."

As they walked slowly along the corridors, Jeff took the opportunity to ask Will about his experiences at the clinic. Another satisfied customer, it seemed. Will clearly idolised both Dr Hart and Dr Ulrich, proud that the former trusted him to do jobs like this.

"I like helping people," he said, his face breaking into a boyish smile that reminded Jeff of his own boys when they had been much younger. But then he grew serious. "It's what I used to do," he whispered. "Before the crash."

"Oh?" Jeff wasn't too sure whether Will would want to talk about what had happened to him. Such a shame, he thought. Though well into his twenties, Will's whole demeanour was that of a young boy.

But it seemed Will wanted to talk. He stopped, looked around dramatically, then put a finger to his lips as he leaned in closer to Jeff. "You have to promise not to tell."

Jeff promised.

"I was in International Rescue. That's how I got hurt. Helping people."

"Ah." Jeff and Brains exchanged glances, neither quite sure what to say. Not that the lack of any real response seemed to bother Will as he regaled them with stories of dramatic rescues all the way to Dr Hart's office.

"Thank you, Will." Dr Hart's secretary cut the boy off as he started yet another tale. "Off you go. You don't want to be late for your session with Dr Andrews."

Will said his goodbyes, then retreated through the door. Before it slid shut, they watched as he spread his arms wide and broke into a run as he headed down the corridor, making what they all assumed were Thunderbird noises - though Jeff and Brains would have been decidedly worried if any of the 'birds had ever sounded like that!

The secretary smiled fondly. "He's a good kid," she said.

"All that International Rescue stuff...?" Jeff asked tentatively.

She laughed. "All made up - of course. He was a law student. Got into a car driven by a friend who was drunk. Such a shame. But he loves stories of International Rescue. Actually, it's surprising how many of our patients claim some connection with them, either as pilots or family members - even lovers. They- Oh, are you alright, Mr Tracy? Here, have some water."

Jeff took the glass she offered him and, after a few sips, was able to control his coughing fit. So much for worrying about Grandma giving them away - on the contrary, it looked as though she'd fit in here just fine.

"Yes," the woman continued, once she was sure Jeff was alright. "Years ago it was all soldiers and astronauts - we even had a patient who swore he was you, Mr Tracy - but now it seems those Thunderbird pilots are the ones who-"

"We're _waiting_ , Andrea."

With a muttered apology, the woman returned to her typing.

"Please come through," Dr Hart said with a smile, though Brains caught the irritated glare he shot his secretary before the smile was once more fixed in place.

The meeting with Dr Ulrich went well. Jeff immediately warmed to the man. Though some twenty years older and a good forty pounds heavier than his companion, the man reminded him of Brains. Awkward and ungainly, with none of the social graces of Dr Hart, he was, nonetheless, a convincing speaker, passionate about his work and obviously thrilled with the results of his research. Although he'd been presentable enough at the start of the conversation, by the time the meeting ended, he'd spent so much time running his fingers through his thinning grey hair, that it stood completely on end. That, along with the glasses so much like Brains' own, made him look the very epitome of the mad professor. Jeff thought Grandma was going to like him.

It wasn't just Ulrich's personality that clinched it. Everything he told them gave them more and more hope. They were shown video clips of the people they'd had lunch with, showing their progress over the past few months. It was phenomenal. A mixture of drugs and electrical impulses directed at key areas of the brain, Dr Ulrich told them. Painful, unfortunately, but over in a few seconds. He'd studied Grandma's medical records and he honestly believed he could help her. Jeff shook his hand, thanked him, then watched with an ever increasing smile as Ulrich and Brains started up a conversation that soon became so technical that even Dr Hart looked lost.

"Henry, take Dr Hackenbacker back to your office," he finally suggested. "Mr Tracy, we need to discuss practicalities."

They certainly did. Jeff didn't quibble at the cost - he'd pay anything to restore his mother to the woman she'd been. Not that Dr Hart was promising that. No, they could prevent any further deterioration and certainly repair some, possibly most, of the damage already done, but a full recovery was probably too much to hope for. Of course, given the brilliance of his associate, nothing was impossible and maybe the modified treatment Grandma was to undergo might just see them find an absolute remedy. Nothing was impossible.

Well, a few things were. Dr Hart was apologetic but adamant as he refused Jeff's request to treat Grandma as an outpatient. Those involved in the trial needed constant monitoring, he said. Likewise, there could be no full-time companion for Mrs Tracy, not even if she was the mother of one of the world's richest and most important men. Every patient had to be treated in exactly the same way if the doctors were to be able to trust their results. But Jeff didn't need to worry, the medical staff were highly trained and compassionate. Grandma would get the best possible care. If Jeff was willing to allow the Hart Institute to treat her.

He was.

And so, a few weeks later, he returned to the Hart Institute, this time with his mother. His sons had asked to come along, but Jeff had refused. They might be needed on a callout - it was hurricane season and a busy time for International Rescue. Anyway, they'd be seeing her soon - whatever the demands of their work, nothing was going to stop Grandma receiving regular visits from her family, even if they had to get to Denver in Thunderbird One. Jeff couldn't help smiling as he pictured Will's face if that should happen!

He settled Grandma in her room, met the nurses, filled out the necessary - and interminable - paperwork, then returned to his mother, who was finishing her initial consultation with Dr Ulrich.

"Very promising," the man said as he rose to leave. "We'll start the treatment tomorrow."

Jeff stood silently, watching his mother as she gazed out of the window. She looked contented enough. The room was cosy, filled with many of her own possessions. On the wall were two paintings by Virgil, one of her old Kansas farmhouse, the other, a portrait of Jeff and all the boys, with their names printed underneath - just in case she forgot.

He didn't know how long he stood there, putting off that awful moment when he'd have to say goodbye. Only when a nurse came in and whispered that she needed to do a few tests on Grandma, just to check her general health, did he accept that it was time to leave.

Leaning over his mother, he kissed her forehead, an unusually demonstrative action for him. He waited for a response, but Grandma just kept staring out of the window. Sighing, he kissed her again then moved away, awkwardly acknowledging the sympathetic look the nurse gave him.

"'Bye, Mom," he said, hovering at the door, hoping to get some kind of reaction.

But there was nothing.

She didn't even notice when he left.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry for the late update - blame real life and John! Yes, he decided he wanted more to do in this story and sent me a few new ideas. One of the things I love about writing is that moment when inspiration strikes and a story takes off in an unexpected direction. It took a while to make sure the new ideas fitted in with what I had planned, but I think they definitely improve the story._

 _Thanks to everyone who responded to the last chapter - I really do appreciate it._

Chapter Four

Life on Tracy Island was certainly strange without Grandma. Even though she hadn't been herself for some time, they had all been used to having her there, a physical presence if nothing else. All of them, including Jeff, had found it helpful to sit and talk to her after a particularly stressful rescue, sharing their deepest emotions - the ones they wouldn't dare admit to in front of the others - taking comfort in the simple act of talking about what had happened to them and the dreadful scenes they'd witnessed. She might not have been able to give the sage advice that she'd done in the past, but her mere presence was still a comfort. Now that was gone.

They kept their promise to visit as often as they could, of course. Jeff spent more time in his New York office, appreciating the opportunity this gave him to head out to Denver whenever he could. The boys were forced to take on more responsibility with the official business, too, having no reason to avoid calling into either the office or one of the factories dotted around the country. Jeff couldn't help but be pleased about this - as much as he hated to add more pressure to their lives, the fact that there was no clear heir to the helm of his company worried him. His boys were never going to love business the way he did - he was an anomaly within the family on that one, the son of a farmer who had resented every moment he had to spend on his accounts, desperate to be back outside doing what he did best - but maybe this extra experience would ensure that his empire continued after he was gone. After all, if his sons planned to keep International Rescue going, they'd certainly need the money the parent business generated.

Kyrano kept things going from a domestic point of view, though he too missed Grandma. He'd developed quite a taste for her cooking over the years, so different from the food he prepared himself. On Scott's birthday, he even tried to bake an apple pie. After all, he'd spent enough time in the kitchen watching Grandma at work. He knew exactly how she did it: the ingredients, the way to roll the pastry, how to time the cooking to absolute perfection. He did it exactly as the woman herself would have. The finished product looked just right and Kyrano was delighted - until he cut a small slice to taste. Oh, there was nothing wrong with it - in fact, it was superb - but it was lacking something, some essence of Grandma herself, Kyrano decided. Most people would have been begging for a second helping if he'd served it to them, but not the Tracys...

He quietly disposed of it and gave the family ice cream instead.

As for Grandma herself, for some time she remained the same. Sometimes she'd recognise her family when they visited, but not always. They were never sure what was worse. Jeff had been devastated when she'd failed to acknowledge him when he'd left her at the Hart Institute that first day, but that was far less traumatic than the time she'd not only recognised him, but begged him to take her home with him, sobbing as she asked him why he was being so cruel to her, what terrible thing she'd done in to be shut away in this strange place. A nurse had reassured him that she'd be fine, that the worst thing he could do would be to stay and allow her to work herself up even more, but it still took every ounce of his strength to walk away whilst the frantic cries of "Jeff" followed him down the corridor.

If he hadn't genuinely believed that the treatment was her only hope, he'd have gone back for her.

But it was. And, slowly, they began to see a change. At first they'd had to take the doctors' word for it when they claimed the treatment was working. Dr Ulrich was rarely at the meetings Jeff attended, too busy treating his patients to bother with their relatives, however rich and important they might be, but Dr Hart was happy to spend time going through charts and printouts of brainwave patterns. It didn't mean much to Jeff, though he took copies back to Tracy Island for Brains, and for a while he wondered if Dr Hart was simply stringing him along, hoping to secure an investment before announcing that the treatment had failed after all.

But eventually, it became clear that Grandma was, indeed, improving. It would be a slow process, and there were no guarantees that she'd ever be the woman she had once been, but more often than not, she would recognise people when they visited and sometimes even hold a coherent conversation.

But she still wasn't herself. The temper tantrums continued, usually when someone got up to leave at the end of a visit. Although she seemed to understand where she was and why, Grandma would still burst into tears as her visitor prepared to leave, clinging onto them and begging them to take her with them. When that didn't work, she'd snap at them, calling them the kind of names for which she'd have lectured the boys - son and grandsons alike - if she'd ever heard them using such terms. They took to either visiting in pairs or - and they felt bad about it afterwards, but it saved everyone a whole lot of anguish - playing a recording of some of Virgil's piano pieces when it was time to go. Grandma always calmed down when she listened to them, eventually falling asleep, so they'd simply set the music playing, then slip away whilst Grandma slept, knowing that when she awoke she might not even remember they'd been there.

John got the worst of it, several weeks after Grandma had taken up residence at the Hart Institute. Grandma had been off with him when he'd arrived, though he'd actually been pleased, since she'd not only recognised him but told him off for failing to visit her before now. He had an unpleasant moment as he waited for her to ask about his latest stint up on Thunderbird Five but she'd said nothing about International Rescue, just lectured him for ignoring his poor old grandmother all this time. Informing the nurse who'd shown him in - rather a pretty girl more or less his own age, the thought registering despite his anxiety over any mention of IR - that he'd been simply been away on business, he prepared to laugh off any suggestion of a connection with the organisation, but there was nothing, Grandma instead wanting to know how he was getting on with his studies.

Well, she'd lost a few years along the way, but she was still more like the grandmother he knew and loved than she'd been for a long time, so John settled down for a cosy chat. Coffee was brought by Will, the young man his father had told him about, and Grandma certainly seemed to have taken to the boy, patting his hand and promising him that she'd make him cookies just as soon as someone showed her where the kitchen was.

He spent a pleasant few hours, enjoying the break from his usual routine, even if he did feel a pang of sorrow every time Grandma forgot something or someone she should have known well. Remembering the advice the others had given him, he got up to set the music going, only for Grandma to grip his arm so tightly that it hurt as she pleaded with him to take her home with him. Attempts to prise her fingers away failed and he resorted to calling for the nurse, scared of hurting the old lady if he applied any more pressure. He couldn't help the mixture of embarrassment and pleasure he felt when the same nurse as before appeared. It wouldn't do his image much good to be seen taken captive by a frail old lady, but then again, any opportunity to see the girl again was a good thing as far as he was concerned and at least he got to show his sensitive side!

Impressed with the way the girl detached his grandmother and settled her down before putting on some music - apparently the family's strategy had been adopted by the staff as an effective means of calming Grandma - John sat back down, waiting for the gentle sounds of the piano to have their usual soothing effect. Sure enough, in less than ten minutes, Grandma's eyes began to close and her chin dropped to her chest. John gave her another minute before preparing to leave. Crouching down and leaning in close to whisper goodbye, he received the shock of his life when Grandma's eyes opened and an expression of the utmost terror crossed her face before she screamed for help and slapped him hard across the face, one jagged nail snagging a bloody line down his cheek.

John didn't know what to do - too stunned to even think of calling for the nurse. What he'd have done if Grandma had continued in this vein, he never knew, but suddenly the fearful expression was gone, replaced by one of recognition, then horror, as she realised what she'd done. She burst into tears, clutching his hand as she rocked back and forth, her words unintelligible for the most part.

Two nurses came in when he called for help this time, though even with three of them, it took a long time to calm Grandma. John waited until, exhausted from her outburst, she fell asleep - genuinely so this time - then left, ignoring the offer of a clean-up of his still-bleeding cheek. He was so shaken he just wanted to get out of there.

He only made it as far as a bench just past the entrance, sitting there with his head in his hands and wondering if he would ever get his grandmother back. He knew he should call his father and tell him what had happened, but first he needed a moment to process it all.

In the end it was more than a moment. Lost in memories, over half an hour had gone by before he was brought out of his reverie by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

It was the nurse who had made such an impression on him earlier.

Immediately sitting up straight, John insisted he was fine. He half-wanted the girl to go away, embarrassed at being caught like this, but when she took a seat next to him, he couldn't help but smile.

"It happens," the nurse told him. "If it's any consolation, she probably won't remember. Even though the treatment's working, it takes a while for the brain to recalibrate itself. This transitional stage is always difficult."

"That's good," John said, knowing how guilty his grandmother would feel about what had happened.

"Of course, _you_ won't find it so easy to forget," the nurse went on. "But don't take it personally. It's the Alzheimer's, not her. If I've learned anything about Mrs Tracy over the last few weeks, it's that her family means more to her than anything."

John nodded. "Goes both ways," he admitted, reddening slightly. He was never comfortable with showing his emotions.

"So you're alright?"

"I'm fine." He raised a hand to his cheek, realising that it was throbbing unpleasantly.

"Let me put something on that," the nurse said, waving away his protests. "Come on, the first aid room's just in here."

His objections were ignored and John found himself being taken by the arm and marched back into the building, sat firmly down in a chair and told to hold still as the cut was cleaned. Far from being irritated, though, he found he quite enjoyed being fussed over - something only his grandmother could usually get away with. The fact that it let him get up close to an attractive young woman was an added bonus, though the nurse was nothing other than professional.

"It won't scar," she promised as she finished up.

"Thanks, er... Sorry, I don't know your name."

"Suzanne. Suzanne Ulrich."

"You're related to Dr Ulrich?"

"He's my father." She smiled brightly as John told her how impressed the whole family were with her father's work.

"Thanks. I feel the same way. I just wish..."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter."

John, usually the most private of men and certainly not one to pry into the affairs of others - well, not unless it was via a computer system and there were dark secrets to be exposed - found himself desperate to know what was worrying the girl. "It must matter. Come on. You've spent all this time helping my grandmother, let me repay the favour."

She looked at her watch. "I can't. I need to get back to work."

"Later then. Let me buy you a coffee."

"I don't finish until nine." She smiled, though, giving John the encouragement he needed.

"Nine? Coffee will just keep you awake at that time of night. Guess it'll have to be dinner."

The smile turned into a laugh. "Okay. I'd like that."

This time, John left the Hart Institute with a broad smile and the hint of a swagger in his walk.

He picked Suzanne up at nine-fifteen. She lived in one of the staff apartments at the Institute with her father - her mother, it turned out, had left her workaholic husband several years earlier. The girl might only have had a few minutes to get ready, but a quick change of clothes, a dab of make-up and the freeing of her shoulder-length blonde hair from the band which had held it back whilst on duty, had turned her from pretty into lovely, at least in John's eyes. It was a long time since he'd felt this level of attraction to any woman - well, stuck up in space, it wasn't as though there was any opportunity for that sort of thing. Even better, she seemed to like him, too - after they'd finished dinner, they remained at their table talking for another hour.

"So, what do you wish?" John finally asked.

Suzanne smiled, somewhat shyly. "Apart from wanting to see you again?"

John already had hold of her hand, but now he squeezed it tightly. "Now that's one wish I know I can grant. But you were saying something about your father."

"Oh, yes. It's nothing really. It's just that... well, he's done some amazing work. Not just with Alzheimer's, but the work he's doing with people who've suffered head injuries... it's really spectacular, John. When the Institute publishes its results in a few months time, the whole medical world is going to be turned upside down, and it's all down to him. But he won't get the credit he deserves, it'll be a Hart Institute discovery, with the emphasis on 'Hart'. Oh, don't get me wrong, Dr Hart always acknowledges Dad's contribution when he gives a talk, but he always makes it sound like the two of them worked together, and he's done nothing, not really. I know Dad doesn't want to be in the public eye, but it just seems so unfair that his work won't be recognised."

John was quiet for a moment, thinking about his own father, a man who certainly hid his achievements from the world, though he always said he'd had his fill of public adulation in his NASA days.

"Is he happy with things the way they are?"

"Yes. Whenever I suggest he takes a stand he just laughs and tells me he's doing this for the patients not for himself." She sighed. "I guess that's my answer, isn't it?"

"Your father's a good man, Suzanne. You can be proud of him."

"Like you? What's it like being the son of a world-famous man?"

"Well, you know, he was always just 'dad'. Didn't matter whether he was a national hero or not when he was grounding me for locking my kid brother in the cellar."

Suzanne laughed. "There's only me. What's it like having brothers?"

John drew in a deep breath. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Well..."

John hadn't had so much fun in years.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry this one is a bit late - it's been a very busy week. Thanks for the response to the last chapter, it's much appreciated. And if the Guest who's left me such lovely reviews for old stories is reading this, a massive, massive thank you!_

Chapter Five

It came as something of a surprise to Jeff when John suggested halving the traditional six week rotation on Thunderbird Five. In fact, he said, why not go further? A two-week alternation might be a better option. Long enough to get some work done, but not so long that you fell completely out of the loop. Anyway, with Grandma needing plenty of stimulation to help her recovery, not to mention now being able to keep track of her visitors, it wouldn't do for one grandson to disappear for weeks on end. All it would take was one slip of the tongue, one comment about John being stuck up on Thunderbird Five when someone asked why he hadn't visited, one person to wonder why the old lady was suddenly making things up about International Rescue when she was supposed to be on the road to recovery... Jeff, of course, was happy to agree. John knew his father had always worried about the emotional effects of him spending so much time alone. Well, if things worked out the way he hoped they would, he might not be alone that much longer...

Alan was more than happy to go along with the idea, not relishing the isolation and responsibility the way his elder brother did. He got the feeling there was more to it than just the desire to look after Grandma, but he knew from experience that his brother wouldn't open up unless he wanted to. Well, whatever the reason, it was fine by him - though even if John had suggested lengthening the rotations, he'd have accepted it without protest. The youngest Tracy had spent years dragging his feet when it came to taking his turn up on Five thanks to his desire to stay close to Tin-Tin, frequently forcing John to change any plans he'd made in order to stay a few days - or even weeks - longer. Whilst he regretted his selfishness, he couldn't help but be glad he'd had that extra time with the girl. But for the last two years he'd been as committed a member of International Rescue as any of the others, doing his best to make things up to his fellow blond sibling. Anyway, he too wanted to be able to visit Grandma as frequently as he could and a two week rotation definitely appealed, not least because it offered more chance to take part in rescues rather than simply listening in.

And so John got the best of both his worlds. It wasn't always easy to get to see Grandma unaccompanied, but John, always the devious one, managed to find reasons to do it. Whether he was visiting friends or taking on extra duties at the official business, his schedule never seemed to coincide with anyone else's. One day he'd tell them about Suzanne, but for now he was enjoying letting the relationship develop without any help - or hindrance - from well-meaning brothers.

* * *

Whilst John's relationship developed rapidly, Grandma's recovery proceeded at a slower pace. It helped that she seemed to have settled into her new surroundings, accepting that she was sick and that the Hart Institute was going to help her get better. No longer did she protest when taken for treatment, instead chatting happily with the staff and doing whatever they asked. She even began to spend time with some of the other people on the trial, most of whom were also doing well, though she shunned the company of the rich people in the group, having more in common with those unpretentious people who were Dr Ulrich's pro bono patients.

As the weeks went by, Grandma's progress became more and more evident, though there were occasional setbacks, such as Virgil's embarrassing attempt to take her out for coffee one afternoon.

Virgil had been thrilled when he was told that the old lady was well enough to spend some time away from the Hart Institute. He knew she and her fellow patients had been on trips before, closely supervised by several members of staff, but this was the first time a family member had been allowed to take her out alone.

As he settled Grandma in his car, turning to wave goodbye to a couple of her friends who were watching from a window, Virgil was pleased he'd been the one who had been given this responsibility. The rest of the family, not to mention Brains and Kyrano, who'd both been over to visit Grandma, had got to know Denver relatively well over the past few months, but they still lacked the inside knowledge of the city that he'd gained during his student days.

Not that he planned on visiting any of his old college haunts that afternoon. Aside from the fact that Grandma wouldn't like them, they simply wouldn't be the same now he was older and wiser - well, only by five years or so, but there were days on rescues when he felt - both physically and emotionally - about a hundred, battered and bruised from some mishap and wondering whether he'd ever become immune to the pain and suffering around him. Pushing those depressing thoughts aside, he chatted idly with his grandmother, though as he drove past, he couldn't help casting a wistful glance at the narrow entrance to a jazz club where he'd spent so much of his free time.

Instead he took Grandma to a diner where he knew the food was good and the clientele perfectly respectable. Nothing for the old lady to object to in the slightest. At least, that's what Virgil had expected. What he got was a waitress with a very short skirt and an ample chest which threatened to spill out from the shirt she'd been unable to button up properly. He was given plenty of opportunity to admire the view when she leant across him to pour Grandma's coffee, making the job last a surprisingly long time, then smiling seductively at Virgil as she moved back.

He blushed as she winked at him, then went completely scarlet when Grandma said, loudly enough for everyone in the diner to hear:

"Keep your hands off my grandson!"

The waitress - Jill, Virgil now saw from the name badge which he'd completely failed to spot just a few moments ago - looked awkwardly at the old lady, muttering an apology and hurrying back to the counter.

"Grandma!" Virgil hissed. "Keep it down."

"I will not keep it down!" Grandma told him. "There's a word for girls like that, you know."

Virgil buried his head in his hands as the old lady continued to criticise the waitress, thankfully more quietly. He wasn't sure whether this reaction was a sign of recovery or deterioration - Grandma didn't appreciate overt displays of sexuality and she'd often been critical of the girls the boys had brought home, though she'd kept her opinions to herself, only sharing them when the relationship broke up and she could comfort her grandsons with all the reasons why the girl simply wasn't good enough for them. Or, in a few memorably rare cases, why a grandson wasn't good enough for a girl...

When Grandma took herself off to the ladies' room, Virgil wondered if it was a good idea to let her loose on her own, even if he drew the line at following her in. Then his attention was distracted by Jill, making her way back to the counter with a tray of empty cups.

"I'm sorry about my grandmother," he told her. "She's not herself these days. She doesn't know what she's saying half the time."

"Oh, she knew," Jill said. "And to be honest, she wasn't far wrong." She smiled, clearly not holding any grudges as she wrote down her phone number and pressed it into his hand. "Just in case," she said.

Virgil was saved from replying by the reappearance of Grandma - carrying a mop and bucket she'd apparently picked up in the janitor's closet.

"No, Grandma, you don't have to clean up," he said, taking the bucket out of her hand. Getting hold of the mop was a harder job, however, as Grandma refused to let go, insisting that she had her chores to do. When Jill tried to help, Grandma grew agitated, waving the mop around wildly, so the waitress slipped away, leaving Virgil to try to deal with the situation alone. He'd taken a soaking wet mop in the face twice before he managed to get it away from his grandmother.

Finally, the cleaning equipment was back where it belonged, Virgil had towelled himself dry and Grandma was letting him help her into her coat, complaining all the time that she _liked_ cleaning and that it wasn't fair of him to spoil what had up till now been a lovely day out.

Unlike his brothers, it took him a long time to see any humour in the situation.

* * *

A few weeks later, fresh from a short stint up on Five, John arrived in Denver. It would have been his grandfather's birthday, so he stopped to buy flowers, knowing the woman probably wouldn't remember but wanting to do something to commemorate the occasion. Not to mention that whilst he was there he could arrange for something to be sent to Suzanne. It would be their anniversary in a few days: three months since their first date.

It was easy to choose something for Grandma: white roses, just as she'd carried in her wedding bouquet. But he was less confident when it came to Suzanne. Lilies? Too funereal. Red roses? Too obvious.

He wandered around the shop trying to find the perfect flower, breathing in the heady scent as he considered each bloom. He'd never properly appreciated a flower before, he thought. Never taken in the subtleties of tone and shade in each petal. Colour wasn't really anything he ever considered. Space, after all, was mainly black and white, unless you looked through Five's powerful telescope. The Earth was a magnificent sight for any astronaut, of course, though somewhat limited in the range of colours it displayed... Wait - had he really just thought that? Had he really allowed the idea that the view from space might become slightly boring after a while to enter his head? What was Suzanne doing to him?

Frankly, he didn't care, just as long as she carried on doing it.

Finally, an unusual pinky-orange rose caught his eye and he knew immediately that this was the one. Delicate, beautiful and somewhat out of the ordinary - like Suzanne herself. The card beside the vase gave the name of the flower but not the colour. He'd have to ask Virgil about that, he thought. His artistic brother knew a thousand different colours - John had never seen the point, until now.

Thoughts of Virgil made him pause. Of all his brothers, his middle sibling was the only one he had trusted with the news that - yes, he'd actually admitted it! - he was falling in love. Truth be told, he was desperate to tell everyone, desperate to show Suzanne off to his father and brothers. Oh, they'd already noticed her, of course, often commenting on the pretty nurse who looked after Grandma so well. Thankfully he'd been up on Five when Gordon had casually told him about his unsuccessful attempt to ask the girl for a date. He and Suzanne had laughed about it later, but at the time he'd been furious. He couldn't help but enjoy the thought of his brother's reaction when he discovered that John had been dating the girl all this time - especially if things moved forwards the way he hoped they would.

Scott would be pleased for him, of course, but all too soon his focus would shift to the difficulty of how to run International Rescue - specifically Thunderbird Five - without his brother's full-time commitment. Once he'd got over the embarrassment of having hit on his brother's girlfriend, Gordon would tease him mercilessly. And as for Alan... well, he'd matured since Tin-Tin's death. Whilst once he'd have joined with Gordon in tormenting his love-sick brother, now he'd react very differently. He'd once told John, when they shared a week-long training session up on Five, that he wished his brothers would find someone - and make a better job of their relationship than he had. Then he'd gone quiet and disappeared for half an hour, under the pretence of searching for some piece of equipment. John hadn't bothered calling him back when he'd found the tool right where it should have been in the toolbox - he knew Alan was still grieving for Tin-Tin and that, however much he might want his brothers to be happy, he'd find it hard to witness, to be reminded of his own loss. It was another reason John hadn't announced his feelings for Suzanne. She'd kept quiet about the relationship too, worried that her father would move her to another wing of the clinic rather than risk some conflict of interest if she became personally involved with the family of a patient. Not that such a thing would happen, she promised - she liked Ruth Tracy a lot, but she treated her just the same as she did the other six patients on that particular trial.

Until now, John had been happy with the situation, but lately, the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that he had enough secrets in his life already. Maybe it was time to be a little more open about things. Perhaps he should start with his father...

When he returned to Tracy Island, he tried to find the right opportunity for a heart-to-heart. But typically, a frantic burst of activity on the International Rescue front followed and he just couldn't find the right moment. When he returned from his third mission in two days, he was so exhausted that he just went to his room and slept.

When the siren went off once again, he couldn't help but curse, dragging his tired body out of bed and down to the lounge.

"What's the problem?" he asked, rubbing his eyes and blinking round at the rest of his family. Only Virgil was missing, but he appeared just at that moment, looking more than half-asleep.

"I'm not sure," his father said, in response to John's question. "Alan's picked up a problem at the Hart Institute."

 _"What?"_ Everyone was shaken, but John knew that he was the only one whose first thought hadn't been of his grandmother. "What is it, Al?" he snapped. "Spit it out."

Alan, via the vid-link from Thunderbird Five, frowned at his usually calm brother's command. "No details yet," he told them, "But I've picked up a 911 call from the Institute. There's a fire."

"Grandma?" Gordon asked.

"No idea. They're evacuating the buildings now. I'm monitoring the situation, guys - as soon as there's something to know I'll tell you."

"Should we head out there?" Scott asked, already halfway to the panel which would give him access to Thunderbird One's hangar.

"No." Jeff was naturally worried, but common sense prevailed. "By the time we get there the fire will be out. Let's just wait and see what happens. The last thing the place will need is frantic family members demanding answers - we get enough of that ourselves out on rescues, remember."

Scott had to agree, but it didn't make the waiting easier. Unusually, though, he was joined in his agitated pacing by John. His brother was taking this whole business with Grandma hard, he thought. He was about to say something when Virgil came up and led their brother away. Some frantic whispering in a corner followed but John didn't seem to be calming down. Scott was about to head over to see if he could help when Alan's panicked voice came through.

"They've found a body."


	6. Chapter 6

_I'm so sorry for the delay in updating. Life got a bit stressful so unfortunately I had to live in the real world for a while, though I'd much rather have hid in TB land. Work is likely to take up a lot of my time over the next few weeks, but I'm hoping to post more regularly. Thank you so much to everyone who's reading and especially to those who responded to the last chapter._

 _Poor Grandma's had her story hijacked by John for the last couple of chapters, so I think she deserves a bit of attention now I'm back on track._

Chapter Six

 _Ruth,_ they called her, but who was she really? She didn't know. Couldn't remember. They put her in front of a mirror, told her the face she saw was hers and she wanted to believe them, really she did. And yet...

The woman looking back at her was old. That wasn't her. It was a mistake. A trick. But when she looked down at her hands, they, too, were those of an old woman. Perhaps the face did belong to her then, but how could that be? If this was her, where had the years gone? She couldn't remember much, but what wisps of memory she did possess belonged to a much younger woman. There was a man: tall, dark and strong. Babies: a boy and a girl, though the only one she could really remember anything about was the boy. But where was he now? Why was she alone here?

And what exactly was this place? People smiled at her, seemed to care about her, but how could they, when, every so often, they would take her to a room so white and bright that it hurt her eyes. They they'd strap her down. Ignoring her cries, they would place something on her head. Then a man would appear, his smile and gentle voice deceptive.

He hurt her.

The pain didn't last long. Short, sharp jabs of agony, over in seconds, but even that was too much. She'd be assaulted by a flood of images: people, places - too fast for her to make any sense of them, though they were always accompanied by the most powerful emotions. Love and happiness for the most part, but there was also the most intense sadness - and occasionally even anger or fear...

The blackness which followed was always a blessed relief.

When they found her crying afterwards, they'd tell her it was for her own good, that it was making her better. She didn't believe them. But slowly, very slowly, she came to realise that things _were_ changing. The long periods of blankness that had characterised her existence for so long were gone. Now she was more aware, not only of the world around her, but of herself. Ruth.

Ruth Tracy.

Ruth Ellen Tracy. Eighty-six years old. Born and raised in Kansas.

Wife of Grant. A... yes, a farmer.

Mother of Jeff and Sarah. Her son had been the focus of her world, she knew that, but he'd left. Gone. Up into the sky, then beyond. But he'd come back. With a wife. And children. Boys. Five of them - or was it six? They'd become hers when the wife had gone. Dead. Like her husband. And her daughter.

Sometimes the memories hurt as they returned. Sometimes she wished she could return to that emptiness.

But there were good memories too. And not just memories. Little by little, she began to engage with the present. She understood why she was there now. Understood that she had to be brave, to endure the pain, because soon, very soon, it would be over and she'd be herself again. That woman in the mirror really was her, there was no doubt of that.

She could put names to most of the faces around her now, even if she didn't always get them right. The people in those white outfits? They were the staff. Nurses. Orderlies. All kind, gentle - well, except the clumsy one with the dark hair who always seemed to pull her hair when she brushed it. The blonde one was her favourite. She was never anything other than kind, never too busy to sit and talk, encouraging her to tell stories about her family, calming her when she grew frustrated as a memory hovered just out of reach. Even the man who hurt her no longer terrified her, though she still dreaded that sterile room. He was a doctor, a good man. It was thanks to him that she was coming alive again.

The person she liked best was the young man with the scar on his head and the big smile. Will. He helped the staff each morning, bringing the patients a hot drink and a piece of fruit or a cake. He'd take her order with an expression of the utmost concentration before heading off to the kitchen, more often than not returning with the wrong item, but with such an endearing way of handing it over, so pleased with himself for doing the job so diligently, that she could never bear to tell him he'd made a mistake. Sometimes he'd sit with her, telling her stories of heroic deeds. She loved to hear them, even though sometimes she'd catch his hand and tell him to hush, to talk in a whisper in case anyone overheard. She didn't know why, but she knew he had to be careful. He seemed to agree, his eyes wide as he smacked his forehead and told himself off for telling secrets - before beginning yet another tale.

He reminded her of her grandsons. She knew them now. It helped that there was a portrait on her wall of all the people who were important to her. They all lived on an island. It had been her home before she'd come to this place, they told her. She hadn't lived in Kansas in years. Maybe one day she'd remember more about her new home - the doctor told her that recent memories were the last to come back but that she was doing well and they'd return eventually. She hoped so.

For the most part the memories of her family were good. Her son - Jeff - was a man to be proud of. And as for those boys, well, who could fail to be impressed by them? She loved it when they visited, loved showing them off to the others. Handsome young men, all of them; polite and considerate, too. Not like that man who occasionally came to see one of the other patients, constantly glancing at his watch until an hour had passed and he could make his escape, his duty done for another week. Then again, his mother, Evelyn, was such a horrible woman, who could blame him.

Thankfully, most of the other patients were good people and she'd made some friends. There was Ida, a woman her own age who had owned a bakery in Denver for many years. They loved to talk about baking and the nurses had promised them that when their treatment was a little further along, they'd be allowed into the kitchen. They couldn't wait. Then there was Earl. A former professional football player, who'd had to give up after badly breaking his leg, he'd made a living as a TV repairman. But bad luck had continued to stalk him and he'd fallen victim to Alzheimer's at an early age, losing not only his job, but his home and family too. He'd lived on the streets for several years until the clinic had taken him in. His treatment hadn't worked as well as that of some of the other patients and he had no visitors, his family too scarred by his previous behaviour to fully trust him now. He sat at the same table as Ruth, Ida and Evelyn at mealtimes and whilst Evelyn found him beneath her notice, Ruth had grown to like him, listening patiently as he slowly recalled events from happier times. She preferred ordinary, down-to-earth people, she discovered. Evelyn was certainly not a friend. Ruth had been appalled to watch her ordering the staff around and being downright rude to Will the one and only time he spoke to her. It seemed her daughter - who never visited - was a senator and once she remembered the fact, Evelyn made sure everyone else knew it too, insisting they give her the respect she was convinced she deserved.

Of course, Ruth didn't pick up on details like these immediately. But as the weeks passed and her mind grew slowly but steadily sharper, she felt more at ease with herself and her surroundings. Not that she wanted to stay at the Hart Institute - as she came to recognise her family more readily, the more she appreciated their visits and the harder it was to watch them leave. Then she'd grow angry and frustrated. Later, the tears would fall as she worried that her behaviour would drive them away for good, that they'd leave her there forever...

* * *

When the alarms went off, waking her from a deep, dreamless sleep, she didn't panic. In fact, she felt a welcome sense of familiarity. She knew that sound, knew it well. There was no danger, nothing to worry about. But she had to get up. There was work to do.

What work?

She couldn't remember. Instead, she turned on the light and stared at the painting on the wall. Her grandson had done that. Virgil. She didn't even need to look at the name printed so neatly on the frame. Proud both of her grandson and herself - her renewed ability to put names to faces still delighted her - she forgot about the alarms for a moment.

The sound of shouts and doors banging out in the corridor jerked her back to reality. Or at least, what she believed to be reality. There was trouble. That was why those alarms were ringing. And what did you do when there was trouble? Run away? Save yourself? No. That wasn't right. You didn't run away from danger. Quite the opposite. You faced it. You didn't worry about yourself, you just did what you could to help.

She knew it was the right thing to do. The voices outside were louder now, coming closer, and she took a few steps towards the door, intending to go out and do whatever it was that needed to be done. But something stopped her. Some overriding instinct that told her that whatever she was going to do, she had to do it unobtrusively. Secretly. She didn't know why that was, but she was utterly certain that was the right way to go about it.

As the door to her room opened, she slipped behind it. She was a small woman but it was still a tight squeeze. Holding her breath, she listened as a woman called her name, checking the bathroom and all around the bedroom - everywhere except her hiding place - before calling out to someone in the corridor that the room was empty, that Mrs Tracy - that was her! - must have gone out through the door to the terrace which, like all the other doors, had automatically unlocked when the alarm had been activated.

The door swung shut as the nurse left. She waited a few minutes, just long enough for the voices to fade away, then opened the door just a fraction, peering up and down the corridor. There was no one around.

Now she could do... What? Well, she thought, the first thing was to find out what the problem was. After a few minutes of wandering the deserted hallways, she reached the door which led to the medical unit. It was shut, but a small window revealed the presence of orange flames on the other side, whilst thin wisps of smoke sneaked through the tiniest of gaps at the bottom.

Instinct told her to get away. Fast. But she pushed her fears aside. She knew what she had to do, and she couldn't do it this side of the door...


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm so sorry for the delay in updating . As so often, pressure of work got in the way. I'm hoping that all the stress of recent weeks is over now and that I'll be able to get back to updating once a week. Thank you to everyone who's sticking with the story._

Chapter Seven

Two things saved Grandma. One was the fact that her poor brain, already overloaded with images and impulses that she only half-understood, was initially unable to process the steps needed to activate the electronic door switch. The other was Will, the brain-damaged young man who was convinced he was a member of International Rescue. He came running up and pulled her away just as she'd finally worked out that she needed to hit the big red button and was reaching out her hand to do so.

"Miss Ruth!" He called her by the name he always used, even though on several occasions he'd been told off by Dr Hart for a lack of respect in using the first name of a lady like Mrs Tracy. Grandma had heard Gordon - or was it Alan? - mutter something about the doctor probably not caring what Will called the charity cases, but she hadn't really understood what he'd meant. She didn't care anyway, being fond of the boy - a substitute, perhaps, for the grandsons she missed so much - and finding the name endearing more than anything else.

"Miss Ruth! You mustn't!"

"Leave me be!" Grandma told him, trying to get back to the door. She put up a surprisingly good fight, but Will was having none of it, insisting that he had to do his job and save her, even if he had to carry her out.

"Go Thunderbirds!" he shouted as he dragged her back down the corridor.

Grandma stopped struggling at a sudden flash of memory - gone too quickly for her to get a proper grip on it, but leaving her with an almost overwhelming sense of pride and awe. It made no sense to her, but it distracted her enough for Will to get her to the exit without any further fuss.

Outside the building there was a degree of confusion. Most of the patients were huddled at the far side of the parking lot, monitored by the Hart Institute staff, but several had broken ranks and were wandering in a state of some distress, refusing to listen to the nurses who were trying to calm them and lead them back to safety. Two fire engines had just arrived, the crews preparing to enter the building, whilst their chief was deep in conversation with Dr Hart.

The unexpected appearance of Will and Grandma - the staff were still trying to count up the patients and hadn't even realised the pair were missing - was greeted with a mixture of surprise and delight. Dr Hart turned pale, clearly imagining the conversation he would have to have with Jeff Tracy - then turned back to the fire chief, demanding that he and his men get inside and sort the situation out right away.

It was Suzanne Ulrich who reached them first, catching Grandma by the shoulders and examining her closely for any signs of injury. The old lady was unscathed, but the shock both of the fire and her own actions in walking into danger suddenly caught up with her and she staggered. Suzanne only just caught her before she fell.

With all the attention focused on Grandma, no one noticed Will slip back into the building once again.

* * *

On Tracy Island, the shock of learning that their beloved Grandma was in danger had been compounded by Alan's announcement of a fatality. John, in particular, was beside himself at the news.

"Whose body?"

Alan shook his head, unable to answer his blond brother. "That's all I'm getting. No details as to whether it's a patient or a member of staff. Sorry, guys. The fire's out, though, that's how the fire department could-"

"Don't they know _anything_? Man? Woman? Come on, Al, you must be able to find out something else."

"John, there's nothing. Look, I know you're worried about Grandma - we all are - but you need to calm down. I can't make the information come any quicker, can I?"

"I could," John muttered, though only Virgil, standing right beside him, heard.

"Call her?" he whispered, the only member of the family to appreciate that whilst John was certainly worried about his grandmother, he was also panicking about the safety of the girl he'd grown so close to over the last few weeks.

"She's on duty tonight!" John snapped. "She won't have her phone. She's in there, Virg, with Grandma. That body-"

"Stop it! They're not in there, John. They'll be outside, safe. You'll see."

"Can you promise me that?" John eyeballed his brother, unsurprised when Virgil couldn't hold his gaze. "Didn't think so."

"Hang on, guys!" It was Alan, frowning as he listened to some new radio transmission they couldn't quite catch back on Tracy Island. But the look of relief which appeared on his face said it all. "It's not Grandma."

Only John failed to join in the whoops and cheers that greeted this news. "Who is it?" he asked. "Alan?"

"No ID yet," Alan told him, "But the victim's male."

John sank back against the wall, grateful for the steadying hand Virgil put out to him. Suzanne was safe. Well, if nothing else, this had brought the extent of his feelings for her into sharp relief. He didn't think he'd felt this panicked ever before, not even when a brother was in some dire predicament during a rescue. Love, he supposed. No, it was more than a supposition, far more. He was in love with Suzanne Ulrich.

"I wonder who the poor guy is," Gordon mused.

"Yes, it's a tragedy," Jeff agreed. "I wonder how the Hart Institute will be affected by this. Do you have any information as to the extent of the damage, Alan?"

"Not yet, Dad."

"Perhaps I should fly over," Jeff continued. "If the patients need to be moved elsewhere I'd prefer to be on the spot to make sure Mother's alright. She's going to be confused enough about all this - I'd feel better if I was there, make sure there's a familiar face around for her. Scott, why don't you come with me? We can bring the inspection of the Nevada facility forward a few days."

John's head snapped up and he stepped forward. "I'll go."

"No, don't worry about it, John." Jeff was already ushering Scott towards the door. "Scott will-"

"I said I'll go."

Everyone stared at John, the sharpness of his tone surprising them all.

John might have been the epitome of patience and tact when he was dealing with International Rescue business up on Thunderbird Five, but when it came to personal matters he was far less stable. Virgil could see his brother about to snap and so he moved in front of him, looking intently at his father as he said calmly,

"I think John should go with you."

This time he didn't drop his eyes. Though he was aware of Scott - indeed all his brothers - staring at him, he continued to hold his father's gaze. Jeff's expression gradually changed from impatience to uncertainty, then finally to acceptance. If it had been any other son he'd more than likely have insisted on doing things his way, but this was Virgil, and he clearly thought the matter was important enough to lay down this challenge to his father. Virgil didn't shout or pout like his brothers, but sometimes his very calmness, born of an absolute belief that he was in the right, could be enough to sway Jeff's opinion. Now was one of those times. When Jeff thought about it, John had been singularly on edge ever since the news had come through about the fire. Something was going on. Well, he wouldn't hold his breath waiting for John to confide in him, but Virgil clearly knew all about it and if his steady middle son thought that sending John to Denver was the right thing to do, Jeff wasn't going to argue.

"Alright," he agreed - and the look of utter relief on John's face didn't go unnoticed - "John, pack a bag, we'll stay as long as we need to."

"Thanks." John's gratitude was clearly directed more at Virgil than his father and Jeff turned away, but not before he caught Virgil's muttered instruction to his brother:

"Tell him."

He wondered if John would.

John did - much to his own surprise as well as his father's. He wasn't the kind of man to so much as admit to even having emotions, let alone actually express them - father and son were very much alike in that respect - but he'd been badly shaken in those long minutes when he'd thought he might have lost Suzanne.

He hadn't been surprised that his father understood what it was like to feel that way - after all, he'd never got over his wife's death, never so much as considered dating another woman, knowing that no one could ever come close to replacing the one he'd loved so dearly. No, John had expected his father to appreciate his feelings. What he'd been less sure of was how he'd react to the news that it was Suzanne Ulrich who was the recipient of those feelings. Not that there was anything wrong with the girl - in John's eyes she was nigh on perfect - but Jeff Tracy had always been a very hard man to please when it came to his sons' girlfriends, never quite sure whether or not they were after the young man's money and always comparing them to the impossibly high standard set by his beloved Lucy. Not that it was so much of an issue these days, of course, not since International Rescue had made the prospect of a relationship so difficult for them all. It was another problem, John thought, but he was confident Suzanne could be trusted. If only his father could see things his way...

He became aware he was holding his breath, waiting for a response to his announcement. It seemed like an age before Jeff said anything, though in reality it was just a second or so.

"That's wonderful!"

John blinked in surprise. Had his father really just given his blessing to the relationship?

"I like the girl," Jeff went on. "The way she looks after your grandmother, well, I couldn't ask for a better nurse. She's a lovely girl. Pretty too. John, I'm really pleased for you. Both of you."

"Not so fast, Dad." John held up a hand. "I haven't told her... I mean..."

Jeff had to smile at the way his son was blushing. "Well, from what you tell me, it sounds as though she feels the same way. Really, John, it's fantastic news. After all the misery of the last year or so, it's wonderful for the family to have something to celebrate."

"The guys don't know yet," John admitted. "Only Virg."

Typical John, Jeff thought. Still, he could see his son's reasoning. Gordon, in particular, could never resist the opportunity to tease, and John's patience had somewhat narrow limits in that kind of situation. Then there was Alan, still trying to get over Tin-Tin... Yes, there were lots of reasons why John would have been so reluctant to share his good news.

"Tell me more about her," Jeff suggested, engaging the autopilot and sitting back with a smile as John did exactly that.

When the vid-link activated they both glanced at the console, John breaking off in mid-sentence, his smile fading as he registered the tense expression on Virgil's face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"John, they've just confirmed the identity of the man who died in the fire. It's Dr Ulrich - Suzanne's father."


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks for the response to the last chapter - it's really appreciated._

Chapter Eight

Jeff couldn't help but keep glancing across at John, unsurprised when his son refused to meet his gaze, his eyes focused either on his phone or on the view from the window. Over two hours had passed since news of Dr Ulrich's death had reached them but despite numerous attempts John still hadn't been able to talk to Suzanne.

It had taken some persuasion on Jeff's part to stop John leaving a message right away, but he'd finally got him to accept that expressing his sympathies at a point when no one except the authorities knew of the dead man's identity might arouse suspicion, even in the numbed mind of a grief-stricken daughter. Instead, John had paced back and forth around the jet's cabin for an hour, pausing every ten minutes or so to make another call. He'd pointed out - and his father had agreed - that lots of people would know about the fire and he could have heard about it from any of the friends his family had made in Denver during recent months.

Scott eventually radioed in to say that they'd received a call from Dr Hart himself, informing them of the fire and of Grandma's resulting escapades. He'd sounded a broken man, Scott told them, full of apologies for his clinic's failure to protect its patient before breaking the news that his brilliant colleague had lost his life.

"I told him you guys were already home," Scott said. "It'll explain why you'll be turning up so soon after hearing the news."

"What about Suzannne?" John asked. He expected his brother to be surprised by the question, even to ask who 'Suzanne' might be, since she was more formally known to the rest of the family as Nurse Ulrich - but Scott simply replied that he knew nothing, though the look of sympathy and understanding he sent his brother was enough to tell John that Virgil had given at least one brother a heads-up as to the relationship. He couldn't believe he'd been so worried about how his family would react. None of that mattered now - all he cared about was getting to Suzanne and doing everything he could to help her.

"You can leave a message now," Jeff said gently, breaking into John's reverie. It came as no surprise when his son dived into the cabin, shutting the door firmly behind him. He couldn't help thinking that all these displays of emotion would be difficult for a man who usually kept his feelings firmly shut down.

Five minutes later John returned.

"Any luck?" Jeff asked.

John shook his head as he flung himself back into his seat. "Nothing."

"There's likely to be a lot going on," Jeff said. He couldn't help but remember those awful hours after Lucy's death. "These things take time. The paperwork, all the arrangements..."

"Guess so."

"Does she have any other family?"

"Only her mother, but she walked out a good ten years ago. It's one of the reasons Suzanne took a job at the Hart Institute when she qualified. She said that without her to look after him, Dr Ulrich would work himself into the ground."

"He was a brilliant man," Jeff said, feeling immediately guilty when he found himself wondering how the man's death would affect his mother's treatment.

His mother...

As angry as he was about the way she'd been able to wander around a burning building, he couldn't help but be proud of her. Dr Hart had told Scott that she'd apparently been determined to do something to help. Well, now he knew where he got his own propensity for helping those in need.

Then there was Will. Jeff had already developed a fondness for the young man, not only for his belief that he was part of International Rescue, but also for his innocent enthusiasm for life - a life that should have been very, very different. Everyone loved Will - even the dour Dr Hart. Now, Jeff had even more reason to value the boy. He'd saved his mother's life that night and he'd have to be rewarded. But what would be the best way to repay a twenty-four year old man with the mind of a five-year-old? It was something of a challenge, but as the father of five boys there was no better man for the job and a smile soon crept over Jeff's face as he reached for the radio to put in a call to Virgil.

He'd thought of the perfect reward for Will.

* * *

Jeff had half-expected to have to argue his way into the clinic since they were well outside normal visiting hours, but the fire had caused all normal routines to be abandoned and his was just one of several cars queuing to get in. Dr Hart himself, pale and dishevelled, was at the gate, doing his best to pacify a woman who seemed to blame him personally for the night's events. Jeff felt sorry for him. Accidents happened, and fires broke out even when all possible precautions appeared to have been taken. He knew that better than most people, after all, his sons been called out often enough to help in situations a lot worse than this one.

John tapped his fingers on the dashboard in irritation. He'd had a brief conversation with Suzanne which had done nothing to alleviate his anxiety. The girl had been distraught and he was desperate to get to her. Finally, with no sign that they'd be moving forward any time soon, he'd flung open the door and set off on foot, breaking into a run as soon as he'd spoken to the security guard, a man he knew well after so many visits to the place.

It was another five minutes before Jeff could drive through the gate.

"Mr Tracy." If Dr Hart had looked harassed before, now he looked positively desperate. "I'm so sorry. You placed your mother in my care and... well, I still don't quite understand how we managed to miss her in the evacuation. I promise there will be a full enquiry."

Jeff waved away his concerns. Any other time he'd have pushed the matter further, but at two in the morning, it really wasn't the time. "I'm sure we can discuss it later," he said. "Right now, I'd really like to see my mother. You're sure she's unharmed?"

"Yes, yes. A little shaken but she'll be fine. She's safely back in her room."

"Her room?" Jeff looked surprised. He'd expected the whole building to have been evacuated.

"Oh yes. The patient accommodation was undamaged. The extractors prevented any smoke reaching that area and the fire department have declared the building safe. The damage was pretty much limited to Henry's office and that corridor. I really don't understand how it happened."

"I'm sorry about Dr Ulrich," Jeff told him.

Dr Hart wiped a hand over his face. "So am I. A brilliant man - and a good friend. Quite what we'll do without him... But I can promise you that your mother's treatment won't be affected - if you want to keep her here, of course."

"Let's discuss that in the morning," Jeff suggested. He actually had no intention of removing his mother from the Hart Institute - as long as there were no major safety issues in the place, though the fact that the building had passed an inspection by the fire department and the residents allowed to return, suggested that all was well. No, his mother had made fantastic progress there and Jeff would never do anything to damage her chances of recovery. Dr Hart looked rather pathetically grateful that he didn't have to talk about it at that very moment and he stepped aside to let Jeff drive on, clearly scared the man would think better of his reasoned response if he had more time to consider it.

The main door to Grandma's building was cordoned off, the fire chief deep in conversation with a couple of policemen, so Jeff drove round to the side entrance where another officer was standing.

"Tracy..." the man muttered, scanning through a list before finding the name he sought. " _The_ Jeff Tracy?" he asked, peering more intently at Jeff.

Jeff wasn't in the mood for a chat about space, business or anything else which might excite a fan. Usually polite under such circumstances, this time he simply fixed the man with a steely glare and pointed out that he was worried about his mother and he'd really like to get inside to check on her.

Moments later he was heading towards his mother's room. Dr Hart had been right - in this part of the building there was no indication that there had been a fire. The only sign that something out of the ordinary had happened was the fact that several of the nurses were gathered at a desk, surely an unusual occurrence for that time of night. As Jeff drew closer he could see that they all looked grim and one or two were weeping. At the sight of him, one of the women detached herself from the group and came to greet him. Jeff knew her by sight and remembered her as a cheery soul, but right now she looked shocked and distressed.

"I'm sorry about Dr Ulrich," he said, and the woman choked back tears before thanking him and giving him an update on his mother.

"She's fast asleep," she told him. "We're keeping a close watch on her just in case she goes wandering again. We're all so sorry she got left behind, Mr Tracy. I guess you'll want to take it up with Dr Hart and we're not going to offer any excuses. It's unforgivable, I know. If we'd lost your mother - and Will - as well as that poor man..."

Once again, Jeff felt unable to voice his anger. There would be plenty of time for that, he thought, but right now he just wanted to see his mother.

Sure enough, she was asleep in her bed. Jeff settled down in a chair beside her, gratefully accepted the nurse's offer of coffee, then proceeded to watch his mother as she slept, all the while wondering what was going on with John and Suzanne. To say the day had been full of surprises was certainly an understatement.

* * *

John had never been more grateful for his International Rescue training in dealing with the traumatised and the bereaved - and he'd never wished more profoundly that he didn't have to use it. He'd found Suzanne sitting in the small apartment she'd shared with her father, a friend by her side. The girl had thrown herself into his arms, clearly trying to keep some degree of self-control, but the effort had been too much and she'd simply burst into tears as she clung to him. Her friend, clearly aware of the way things were between them, had left them alone after a few final words of condolence.

John had guided Suzanne to the couch and they'd remained there for the best part of an hour. She was calmer now, though no less able to believe what had happened, constantly telling John that she couldn't understand it, that her father shouldn't even have been in his office at that time of night - and anyway, she'd always been led to understand that the place was virtually fire-proof. John had promised her they'd find out what had happened, though he knew from his own experiences that sometimes the unexpected happened for no reason other than the Fates decreed it must be so.

Both of them were on the verge of falling asleep - still in each other's arms - when a knock on the door startled them into wakefulness.

"I'll go," John said, detaching himself and heading out into the hallway.

Opening the door he wasn't surprised to see a policewoman standing there, a fireman by her side.

"We need to speak to Miss Ulrich," the woman said.

"Come on in," John said, standing aside to let them through the door. Dropping his voice in case Suzanne heard, he muttered,

"She's taken this hard. Do you know what happened yet?"

"We have a good idea."

The woman's grim tone alerted John to the fact that the news she had to impart wasn't necessarily good. But she wasn't the one who spoke when they were all settled in the lounge. Instead, she watched Suzanne intently as the fireman coughed awkwardly before beginning:

"Miss Ulrich, we've carried out our preliminary investigation and the findings are... well... unusual."

"Unusual?" Suzanne looked at him uncomprehendingly. "What does that mean?"

The policewoman took over. "It means, I'm afraid, that the fire was more than likely started deliberately."


	9. Chapter 9

_Finally, an update. I'm so sorry for the delay - once again a story got a bit out of control and it's taken a while to work it all out. That'll teach me to follow a new idea once I've started posting. (Although it probably won't - seeing where the characters want to take a story is all part of the fun!)_

Chapter Nine

Shortly before a policewoman was dispatched to inform Suzanne that the fire was no accident, Dr Hart had been given the same information by a couple of detectives, called in by the fire chief once it became clear that there was a more sinister element to Dr Ulrich's death.

"I can't believe it!" Hart muttered for what had to be the twentieth time.

"Nevertheless, Dr Hart, that appears to be the case. Now then, what we need to know is who had access to that part of the clinic - and who might have had a motive for killing your colleague."

The doctor had been pacing the room, but now he sank into a chair, his head in his hands. "You mean it wasn't an accident? I mean, I know the fire was started on purpose, but you really think someone _intended_ for Henry to die?"

"There are indications, yes."

"Indications?"

The detective refused to be drawn. "Perhaps we should wait for the post mortem to confirm our suspicions, Dr Hart."

"I see. Who...?"

"That's what we're here to find out. Now, if we could have access to your security cameras and the late doctor's schedule for yesterday we can make a start."

"Henry's schedule? You surely don't think a patient did this? Surely it was some local crook? A drug addict, perhaps - we hold all sorts of medication here. I assure you all our patients are closely watched."

"Like the pair who managed to hide themselves in the building?"

Irwin Hart had no answer to that and the detective continued.

"The cameras will show any intruders, but I'd say it's highly unlikely. Your perimeter security is pretty impressive, doctor. Do you really believe a random stranger managed to gain access to the clinic? No, I think the answer lies closer to home. For a start, you have a number of unstable people here, some of whom are capable of violence. I know of two occasions when your staff had to call us to assist in restraining someone."

"Well, yes, but that's par for the course with this type of patient. But I assure you, we have procedures in place to ensure that no member of staff is left vulnerable. There would have been a nurse or an orderly in with Henry all the time."

"We'll need to speak to the nurses, then. In fact, all the staff will need to be interviewed. Although it's unlikely, we can't discount them, doctor."

Hart sprang to his feet, spluttering his indignation. "That's even more ridiculous than the idea that a patient did this terrible thing! My staff are carefully vetted before they take up their employment. I'll vouch for all of them."

"I'm sure you will, sir, but you'll understand we need to follow procedure. Maybe one of them had a grudge against the late doctor?"

Hart laughed. "That's ridiculous. You couldn't hold a grudge against Henry. The man was a saint."

The detectives didn't bother to debate this, instead repeating their request for the information they needed. Hart reached for his telephone and called his security guard. A quick conversation followed and he assured the detectives they'd have the camera footage shortly. He could hardly call Dr Ulrich's secretary at four in the morning but if the police couldn't access the computer records, he'd make sure the woman was brought in as soon as was reasonable.

"Though I should warn you that Henry was an appalling record keeper." Dr Hart smiled ruefully. "It's more than likely he had a sudden brainwave and pulled a patient in without making a note of it in his diary."

"It would be in the patient's records, though?"

"Oh yes. Henry was meticulous in that respect."

"If he had time to make any notes," the second detective muttered grimly.

* * *

Once the detectives were settled in his office with the security camera footage and the clinic's personnel records, Dr Hart made his way over to the apartment that his friend had shared with his daughter, tapping softly on the door in case the girl was asleep. He waited a few moments and was just raising his hand to knock again when the door opened.

"Suzanne, I - oh." He actually took a step backwards, an expression of complete surprise on his face as the person on the other side of the door was revealed as none other than John Tracy.

"Doctor Hart. Come on in." John couldn't be bothered with any explanations. Anyway, the doctor was intelligent enough to work it out for himself - if he could spare a thought for anything other than the fire and the death of his friend and colleague. The night's events had clearly shaken him. As they should, John thought, if one of his patients had been able to commit such a heinous act. Security clearly wasn't as good as he and his family had been led to believe - after all, his grandmother had been able to wander freely around a building which should have been evacuated. If it hadn't been for Will, then he might have been as grief-stricken as Suzanne was right now.

Stepping aside to allow the man in and answering his query as to Suzanne's state of mind with a noncommittal shrug, John followed him to the living room, watching as he sat beside the girl and took her hand.

"I'm so sorry," he told her. "I'll do whatever I can to help"

"I'll look after her," John told him.

Dr Hart looked up at him. "Am I to understand that the two of you are..."

"We're together, yes."

"Ah. I see." He looked at Suzanne with an expression John couldn't fathom. "Yes, I see..."

"They said it must have been one of the patients," John said, changing the subject in case the doctor wanted to start discussing Suzanne's involvement with the grandson of a patient.

"Yes. Yes, that's what they believe."

"You don't think so?" Something about the man's hesitant response bothered John. Still, he supposed, it wouldn't do the Hart Institute's reputation any good once word got out that this kind of thing could happen. Then again, with the clinic's most brilliant practitioner dead, the place was going to be a less desirable option, anyway.

"I don't suppose there can be any other explanation, can there?"

"He saw Earl Reed last," Suzanne said slowly. "After his regular sessions. He asked me to get him. He didn't say why. I know in the past Earl's been aggressive but he hasn't had an episode since his treatment started. He was fine when I took him down."

"Mr Reed..." Dr Hart sighed. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense."

"It does?" John asked.

"Yes. The last conversation I had with Henry was late this afternoon. He'd just received Mr Reed's test results back. The news wasn't good."

"The treatment didn't seem to work as well on him as it did on Grandma," John agreed.

"Oh, no, Mr Tracy, not those kinds of tests. Mr Reed is a very sick man. Cancer. Of course we checked him over thoroughly before we took him on - one of Henry's special cases, you know - and he had as clean a bill of health as someone who'd been living on the streets and drinking far too much could possibly have, but we've suspected recently that something wasn't right. Such a shame - one of those dreadful cases where by the time the symptoms emerge it's too late to treat. Weeks, not months, I believe."

"I left them alone," Suzanne said, clearly stricken at the thought. "Mr Loxley had one of his turns and an emergency call went out. Dad said he'd be fine so I left him. By the time I came back Will was escorting Earl back to his room. He looked upset, I remember that now. But before I could say anything the new nurse asked me to help her find something and by the time I'd done that Earl was gone."

"You didn't go back to your father's office?" Dr Hart asked.

"No. I had no reason to. I try to stay professional when I'm on duty so I didn't go in to see Dad, I just went back to my station. If I had maybe I could have saved him."

She burst into tears. Dr Hart watched her, uncertain of what to do, clearly relieved when John stood next to him and readily ceding his position beside the girl to the man who had the best chance of consoling her. He watched as John put his arms around the girl and whispered something to her.

"I should be getting back," he said. "There's a lot to do. Don't you worry about a thing, Suzanne. And if there's anything I can do..."

Suzanne murmured her thanks and John got up to escort Dr Hart out of the apartment.

"I had no idea you two were together," the doctor said.

"No one knew," John told him. "Well, except one of my brothers. My father only found out a few hours ago."

"I see."

"Is there a problem?" John asked. "Suzanne's been nothing but professional around Grandma and she certainly doesn't talk about any of the other patients."

"Oh no, I'm sure her conduct has been exemplary. I just wondered how Henry would have taken the news, that's all."

"You don't think I'm good enough?" John asked with some amusement. Not that he was vain, but it was purely a statement of fact to say that he was handsome, rich, intelligent...

"Oh, that's not it. No, it's just that Henry was very protective of Suzanne."

"It can't have been easy bringing her up by himself."

Dr Hart sighed. "No."

"But she's got me to take care of her now."

"Indeed." He hesitated then seemed to think better of whatever he'd been about to say. Instead he turned to the door. "I suppose I should see what's happening with Mr Reed. Goodnight, Mr Tracy."

* * *

When a visibly upset nurse brought him the news - along with a very welcome coffee - that the police and Dr Hart were in Earl's room, Jeff did his best to appear surprised. Of course, John had already told him all about it.

"It's awful," the nurse said softly, not wanting to disturb Grandma who was still sleeping peacefully. "I'd never have believed it of poor Earl. We've not had any trouble with him since the early days of his treatment."

"I suppose hearing that he was dying when he thought life was finally getting better might have pushed him over the edge," Jeff said.

"I just don't understand it. I mean, he was fine when I settled him back in his room once we were allowed back into the building. Shaken, naturally, but there was nothing to suggest he knew any more about it than the rest of us did."

"Maybe he didn't remember," Jeff suggested.

"Maybe. Still, it's stopped the police pestering poor Will. Do you know, they saw him wandering the corridors on that camera footage and they gave the boy such a hard time. I really think they believed he might have had something to do with it."

That reminded Jeff of the mission he'd entrusted to Virgil and he wondered how his son was progressing.

The nurse started as her pager beeped. "Excuse me, Mr Tracy, I'm needed."

Jeff watched her leave then turned back to his mother. Stretching - the hours he'd spent in the chair next to her bed had been decidedly uncomfortable - he reached for his coffee.

"Jeff?"

"Hi Mom." Jeff leaned over and smiled at the old lady. He still got a real sense of pleasure from the fact that she remembered who he was. Dr Ulrich had been a great doctor, he thought. It was such a pity the world was now denied his genius.

"What's wrong?" Grandma struggled to sit up. "Something's happened. You look upset. Is it the boys?"

"No, no." Jeff did his best to settle his mother. "Everyone's fine. Well, all the family. Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Last night?"

"The fire? Your little adventure?"

Grandma screwed up her face, the very picture of intense concentration. "I tried to help..."

"That you did. But luckily Will stopped you doing anything silly. You could have been hurt, you know."

Grandma looked crestfallen. "I didn't know what to do."

"Well you certainly knew how to channel Houdini. How did you give the nurses the slip?"

Grandma explained how she'd hidden behind the door. "I won't get anyone into trouble, will I?"

"No. But I'm going to be having a few words with Dr Hart."

"Now don't go troubling that man, Jeff. He's got this whole place to run. Anyway, it's Dr Ulrich who takes care of me."

"Yes." Jeff debated whether to break the news to his mother, then decided it could wait. But when, twenty minutes later, a nurse came in to see if Grandma was awake and ready for breakfast, he had to explain why the woman had clearly been crying. As he'd expected, Grandma was distraught.

"That poor, poor man. Oh, Jeff. He did so much to help me. All of us. Ida, Earl - even that awful Evelyn woman - none of us would be getting well if it wasn't for him."

Which of course meant Jeff had to break the news about Earl.

Grandma was appalled. "Nonsense! Honestly, Jeff, the idea that Earl Reed would do such a thing."

"Now, Mother, don't upset yourself."

"I'm not upsetting myself. You're upsetting me. You and those police officers. Let me talk to them!"

"Sit down, Mother. Please."

John came in as Jeff was trying to keep Grandma in her chair.

"John! Tell your father he's an imbecile!"

John was lost for words. He rarely disobeyed his grandmother, and the look his father was giving him was so full of outrage that he was tempted to do as he was told just to see what the reaction would be. But then the gravity of the night's events took hold and he simply asked what the problem was.

"She's refusing to believe Earl had anything to do with it," Jeff told him.

John sat down beside his grandmother and took her hand. "Grandma, I know he was your friend, but there's no other explanation."

"The police suspected Will at one point," Jeff said.

Earl was forgotten as Grandma erupted in fury at that suggestion. She was working herself up into such a state that John could think of only one way to divert her attention.

"Grandma, I'm thinking about getting married."


End file.
